


What Constitutes an Appreciation?

by tobiyos



Series: Kinktober 2020 [8]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Crying, Dacryphilia, Getting Together, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26839768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: “You should let me paint you,” Yusuke says again.“The hell d’you wanna paint me for?” Ryuji sniffs. He wipes at his face a bit with the back of his hand, and again, the way he always seems to, Yusuke lifts a hand and thumbs gently over his tear tracks.Yusuke hums, considering. “I believe you’re rather beautiful when you cry.”
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Sakamoto Ryuji
Series: Kinktober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970752
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	What Constitutes an Appreciation?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this one took me deadass a MONTH to finish. I stopped randomly because I didn't know what I was doing, but when I got back to it this turned into one of my favorite fics I've written for kinktober. Yusuke ily, you are so hard to write.
> 
> Kinktober day 8: dacryphilia

Ryuji thinks Yusuke is kind of weird. Well, all of his friends are weird—Haru gets strangely intense during low stakes games, Akira has a million hobbies that never seem to overlap in any way, Morgana is a cat. They’re a strange bunch, the Phantom Thieves.

But Yusuke is… something else. Trying to talk to him is, at times, like trying to chat at a brick wall, or maybe a robot with settings for one topic at a time. His hair is blue, he speaks like he’s reading a textbook, and he’s always around when Ryuji is crying.

It’s almost funny how many times Yusuke has caught him bawling his eyes out over the course of their ‘friendship’ but it’s happened a _lot_. Ryuji spends more than half of his time pressed tight to Akira’s side—they’re best friends after all, and Ryuji _is_ his right-hand man—but even he hasn’t seen Ryuji let loose the way Yusuke has.

The first time it had happened, it was an accident, Ryuji was just having a shitty week and had gotten a leg cramp climbing off of the train, which only set him off as he’d climbed towards station square. He’d nearly shrieked when someone had caught him by the wrist as he was headed towards the stairs, reaching up to wipe at the tears on his cheek, and had turned around to Yusuke’s concern.

“Are you all right?” he’d said evenly, and Ryuji had tugged his arm out of Yusuke’s grasp to wipe a little harder at his face, trying to hide evidence he’d been in tears.

“Jesus, dude, warn me before you sneak up on me like that.”

“My apologies,” Yusuke says, and takes a step back. He doesn’t walk away though, and Ryuji doesn’t either, just plants his feet on the floor and scrubs at his face until he feels a little less shitty. Yusuke tips his head to the side. “ _Are_ you all right, though?”

“’m fine,” Ryuji sniffles, and feels a little horrified when tears start to burn in his eyes again. Before he can reach up and wipe them away though, Yusuke’s hand is on his skin, his fingertips cool against Ryuji’s flushed face.

Neither of them say anything as Yusuke swipes a tear out from under his eye, and then drops a hand back to his side.

“Uh—”

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m just people watching. I always have time for you.”

Ryuji thinks he’s appreciative of the sentiment—judging by the way his chest squeezes tight and his face goes warmer—but he shakes his head. “Nah, man. I think… Think I just want to go home.”

“Alright,” Yusuke says pleasantly. He nods his head. “Later, then.”

Ryuji spends a majority of his walk back to his apartment trying not to reach up and smooth over the place where Yusuke had touched his skin. He says it’s because Yusuke’s hands are always so chilly it leaves a cold spot on his skin, but that’s not quite true.

And that’s only the _first_ time frustratingly. If Ryuji starts to feel the prick of tears anywhere semi-public, Yusuke somehow manages to appear, like he can smell it. (He’s half afraid Yusuke is going to show up in his room the one time he _does_ break down on his bed.)

And he’s not… it’s not a _thing_ with him, crying. He knows people think it’s not manly for guys like him to cry, but he’s got a _lot_ going on, okay? Saving the world is easy when it’s just monster cats and shithead teachers, instead of the world turned against you and an imposter amongst your teammates.

But he cries, and Yusuke comforts him, and he doesn’t think it’s strange until he asks Ryuji to model for him in the middle of rubbing his shoulders soothingly.

“What?” Ryuji says, sitting in one of the booths at Leblanc. He’d come to see Akira, but Yusuke had been here in his stead, apparently interested in the same thing. All he’d had to do was ask _How are you_? Before Ryuji was breaking down into a big sobbing mess.

“You should let me paint you,” Yusuke says again, and one of his large hands—Ryuji didn’t really know his hands were that big until recently but they’re not _clumsy_ big, his fingers are just long, and slender, and Ryuji thinks his knuckles are kind of pretty and… what were they talking about?

“The hell d’you wanna paint me for?” Ryuji sniffs. He wipes at his face a bit with the back of his hand, and _again_ , the way he always seems to, Yusuke lifts a hand and thumbs gently over his tear tracks.

Yusuke hums, considering. “I believe you’re rather beautiful when you cry.”

Ryuji blinks at him twice, before he realizes how close they’re sitting in the booth, shoulders press firmly together, and he squirms a little distance between them. “What? That’s… I mean—” Oh, Ryuji can feel his face starting to heat up. He doesn’t think anyone has ever called him _beautiful_.

“Sorry,” Yusuke says, removing his arms from Ryuji’s shoulder. “Too much?”

“Nah, I guess,” Ryuji sighs, and scratches at the back of his neck. Yusuke’s body heat is gone now, and he has to repress a little shiver at the cool air conditioning of Leblanc. “I guess you just surprised me. ‘s fine, but, uh—” He glances at Yusuke, and his friend looks back, patient, though his gaze don’t seem to be fixed on Ryuji’s eyes, just a little lower, like he’s staring at his eyelashes. “If I say yes, you’re not gonna. I mean—with Ann—”

“You’d remain clothed,” Yusuke assures, with his eyes still fixed on a point of Ryuji’s skin he wishes he could see. Ryuji lets out a breath, before Yusuke looks up at the ceiling. “Probably.”

He says yes anyway.

It’s just Yusuke, right? It’s not like he could do anything _too_ bad, and even if he did tell Ryuji to strip, he can just bolt away before shit gets bad. Though, the idea of Yusuke’s eyes lingering on Ryuji’s bare skin makes him squirm when he thinks about it too long, and he doesn’t quite enjoy the way it makes his insides warm like he’s sitting in the sun.

Yusuke texts him directions to his school, apparently wants to work at Kosei. Ryuji had thought they’d work in the park or something (or maybe a church, like Akira had told him Yusuke had asked of him once. He doesn’t feel super comfortable with _that_ either, though.) but he packs all of his shit up once his classes finish and takes the train to Yusuke’s high school.

“You made it,” Yusuke says, meeting Ryuji at his font gates.

Ryuji kicks at some rocks on the concrete and shoves his hands into his pockets, tries to ignore the weird excited fluttery feeling that comes with the experience. He’s probably been thinking about it too much. “Did you think I’d get lost or something?”

“No,” Yusuke says, with a small smile, and turns on his heel. Ryuji follows him into the school, half listens as Yusuke details how he’s managed to get basically uninterrupted access to the painting studio now that he’s living in the dorms.

Ryuji makes noises like he’s paying attention, but really he’s looking around, taking in all of the school. Shujin is a lot of warm colors, dull greys, wood floors, fluorescent lights. Kosei is kind of like a hospital, he thinks, if hospitals were missing the clinical feeling. The walls are stark white, and most of the hallways are taken up by gigantic windows, letting in the natural light of the late afternoon, and Ryuji thinks it’s kinda pretty. He’s too busy trying to glance out of the giant windows and nearly walks into Yusuke as he stops outside of a door.

“In here,” he says, and slides the entrance open. The painting studio is the same as the rest of the school, white and immaculate, easels with blank canvases set up in seemingly random places about the room, hollow white like ghosts.

Ryuji suddenly feels like he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time, like maybe Yusuke asked a different Ryuji to sit for a painting and got stuck with him instead. He follows Yusuke anyway, watches as he sets up a frankly uncomfortable looking stool in the middle of the room, and drags an easel forward.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to strip?” Ryuji teases lightly, though it comes out of his mouth sounding a little more nervous than he expected.

Yusuke doesn’t even look up at him, just sets about laying out brushes and paint. “Hm. If you’d like to, I suppose you can.”

“J-joking, dude,” Ryuji sighs, and kicks at the floor again.

“Ha ha,” Yusuke says dryly, which does manage to startle a quick laugh out of Ryuji. He doesn’t miss the way that tugs up on the corner of Yusuke’s mouth, not quite a smile, but hey, Ryuji will work with what he gets. “Sit there.” Yusuke points at the stool, and Ryuji takes his seat gingerly, crossing one of his legs over the other. Yusuke frowns. “As neutrally as possible, for now.”

“R-right,” Ryuji says, and drops his leg. Suddenly, it’s very difficult to sit normally, his body seemingly wanting to rebel against the idea of holding still with his hands just hanging at his side, feet flat on the ground.

“Hm.” Yusuke says, and glances around his easel at Ryuji. He stands up, and walks closer, and Ryuji flinches when he realizes that their only somewhat noticeable height difference is so much worse now that Yusuke is towering over him. Ryuji feels very small, and Yusuke is looking very closely at his face, and there’s… something wrong with him, he thinks, because suddenly he’s having trouble breathing, and it only gets worse when Yusuke reaches down and grabs Ryuji gently by the jaw. He tilts his face a bit, left, then right, then back again, and Ryuji thinks his fingers are as cold as they always are, but his skin is really soft, and Ryuji visualizes holding his huge hand in Ryuji’s palm, rough from years of tripping over his own feet and catching himself by his hands, and he barely hears when Yusuke speaks.

“Can you cry on command?”

Ryuji blinks up at him a little stupidly, because he wasn’t expecting the question. He’ll pack away the sudden urge to hold Yusuke’s hand for later. “Probably not?”

“Have you tried?”

“No,” Ryuji says slowly, and makes an embarrassing half startled noise when Yusuke tilts his face up, stretching his neck long on his shoulders. “Uh, I, should I?” he asks, wincing to close his eyes. He really doesn’t want to know how Yusuke is looking at him right now, because he thinks his face is starting to go red, if the heat high in his cheeks means anything.

“I _was_ hoping to capture your expression while you weep. It’s rather… captivating.”

Ryuji wants to argue that he’s literally the only person who would think that, but he also knows that Yusuke _is_ the expert when it comes to art. He’s not just going to bank a whole piece on something he isn’t passionate about. Which only makes Ryuji’s brain reel, because does that mean Yusuke is passionate about _him_?

“Okay!” he squeaks, embarrassed at his own line of thinking. He flinches when Yusuke’s thumb moves against his face, right underneath his jawline, one slow stroke over his skin that makes Ryuji’s skin break out in goosebumps.

“Do you need me to hurt you?” he says, and _god_ Ryuji wishes he could hide his face right now. He’s not even doing it on purpose, but it seems like everything that comes out of Yusuke’s mouth incites some weird reaction in Ryuji that he _doesn’t_ want to address, and he thinks if he gets out of this experience without popping a boner, he’s in need of an emotional vacation.

“N-no,” he wheezes. “I can just.” He opens his eyes and squints very hard up at the ceiling. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the feeling of Yusuke’s hand still firm on his face, but he tries thinking about stressful things. Exams, exams, they’re out of ginger at his favorite ramen place, Akira in jail, Yusuke’s fingers on his skin, on his face on his throat down his chest—

“I don’t think I can,” he croaks, just because whatever slight watering he was building up got lost just as quickly as it came. “Is. Can we…” he doesn’t want to say _can we stop_ because he doesn’t actually think that’s necessary, but he definitely needs a minute where Yusuke isn’t close enough to touch.

“Try again,” Yusuke says gently, and the tone of his voice is so soothing, Ryuji has to take a deep breath to put his thoughts back together. Right. This is about helping Yusuke. He’s helping his friend. Yusuke’s hand drops away from his face, and Ryuji opens his eyes to Yusuke dropping down into a squat, crossing his hands over his knees. “I read that if you think about a specific emotional moment, you may be able to do it that way.”

“Right,” Ryuji says, and closes his eyes. He thinks about vague shit—his mom dying, ow, too much, Akira deciding he doesn’t want to hang around Ryuji anymore, that just makes him angry, that time Ann rejected him in middle school, that one doesn’t even really hurt anymore, he’s over that, but suddenly he’s thinking about blue hair and downturned eyes instead, Yusuke’s hand on his shoulder as he says _sorry, I just don’t think I see you that way._ And, wow, ok. He’s getting somewhere, the telltale prickle of tears hot behind his eyelids. Ryuji leans into it some more, sees himself saying back, _You’re right, I’m sorry, it was stupid of me to think,_ and Yusuke cutting him off by saying, _Can we not talk about this anymore? I don’t know if I’m comfortable around you right now_.

“Ryuji?” Yusuke says, and Ryuji slides his eyes back open, and realizes he’s crying.

“S-sorry,” he says with a shudder, but doesn’t move to wipe the tears away, just _I don’t know if I’m comfortable around you right now_ reverberate around in his head until he feels like it’s choking him, and he has to bite down on his bottom lip and breathe through his nose.

“Are you okay?” Yusuke asks, and there’s that hand on his skin again, just pressing his tears away from where they’re sliding down his face, and Ryuji hiccups embarrassingly, brings a hand up to his face as the crying gets worse. He’s crying over a ridiculous fake rejection. He doesn’t even know if he likes Yusuke.

“I’m fine,” he sniffles, and covers another shaking sob with his hand. “I-its… I’m not going to be able to stay like this for long. Y-you should paint.” He doesn’t even realize Yusuke isn’t moving until he turns back and sees him still on the floor. “Yusuke?”

“You’re—” Yusuke says, and brushes Ryuji’s hand away from his face again. He puts both of his palms on Ryuji’s cheek, and the fake rejection comes rushing back in again, choking Ryuji and making his throat feel raw. He breathes hard through his nose. “You really are beautiful.”

“I’m… thanks?” Ryuji sniffs, and leans up to put his hands over Yusuke’s. He’s about to move them off, tell him to go paint again, but Yusuke cuts him off before he can say anything.

“What did you think about?”

Ryuji’s blood runs cold. The crying manages to stop for a moment, before he blinks open tear sticky eyes. “Why do you—”

Yusuke kisses him.

It’s sudden, and Ryuji doesn’t even realize it’s happening, is staring down at Yusuke’s face one moment and the next is feeling the soft swell of his lips against his own, and it’s like Ryuji’s head cracks down the center and all of his brain comes out of his ears in a puddle on the floor.

Yusuke is _kissing_ him. Kissing him through the tears and the dry feeling in Ryuji’s mouth. His mouth that also has Yusuke’s on it. And, _shit_ , he thinks he’s bad at this because he doesn’t know what to do, should probably move or say something, but Yusuke leans away, his mouth a little shiny. His mouth is _shiny_ Ryuji knows what that _feels_ like.

“Sorry,” he says, and Ryuji is still staring at him slack jawed, thinking desperately, say something, say something, say _something_. “I don’t know. I don’t know why—”

“Don’t say you don’t know,” Ryuji rushes out, and leans forward to grab him by the collar. Yusuke’s eyes widen, dark blue going almost sapphire in the late afternoon sun. Ryuji shakes him by the collar gently, voice still a little horse from the crying. “Don’t say you don’t know. Kiss me.”

Yusuke blinks at him like he’s processing what Ryuji said, before he’s nodding, and rocking back on his heels, leaning up. This time, Yusuke presses their lips together and Ryuji sighs, lets the tension drain out of his body and kisses back, lips moving gingerly over Yusuke’s. His mouth is soft and full, like he uses the shitty scrubs Ann tried out on him once, and Ryuji’s brain swims around in his head like he’s got an aquarium up there instead of a skull. He tries to catalogue everything about what’s happening, because it feels like the movement of the century, Yusuke’s slick lips and the way their noses nudge together too often, the way Yusuke sucks on his bottom lip.

It’s a lot. It’s perfect.

They have to break away from the kiss to breathe, mostly because Ryuji is pretty sure neither of them is adept enough at this to keep going without suffocating, but the second Yusuke’s mouth is off of his he misses it, aches like it’s something he can’t live without.

Yusuke leans up a little higher and kisses Ryuji on the cheek, and Ryuji flinches a bit when he feels his tongue on his skin, warm and wet.

“Uh,” he breathes. He doesn’t want to ask if Yusuke just licked the tears off of his face. “Did you just lick the tears off of my face?”

Oops.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Yusuke says gravely, and his hands are still holding Ryuji’s face in place, fingers stroking idly at the wet spots on his face. “I thought—Well, I was well aware of my desire for you—”

“Your _what_?”

“—but there’s something. Something different now that it’s. You’re…” He growls frustratedly and drops his hands from Ryuji’s face to lean back. “Something is wrong with me.”

Ryuji thinks about the way Yusuke looks at him now, all the other times he’s caught him crying, the slow stroke of his fingers over Ryuji’s wet skin. _I believe you’re rather beautiful when you cry._ “Holy shit,” he laughs. “You have a thing for me crying. And, wait, your _desire_ for me?”

“That’s absurd,” Yusuke says, and he won’t look at Ryuji now, just keeps his eyes fixed on a low corner of the room. “I’m not. This isn’t some perversion, it’s the appreciation of the raw elegance of—”

“It’s a kink, Yusuke.”

Yusuke grumbles, but stops trying to fight it, just puffs out his cheeks indignantly. Ryuji thinks he looks cute. When did Ryuji start finding the things Yusuke does _cute_? “An appreciation,” he still amends.

“A kink,” Ryuji says lightly, and leans down onto his knees to see Yusuke’s face better. “You like me? Like… in a boyfriend kind of way?”

Yusuke fixes him with a look that says _unimpressed_ , before he’s curling in tighter on himself and looking away again. “Don’t be juvenile.”

“Well desire sounds creepy, so I’m going to ask you again. You like me?”

“I do,” Yusuke says easily. He glances up at Ryuji’s face. “I thought I made that clear.”

“Literally how—” he cuts himself off. This is Yusuke. The reality of it all still hits him like a train. Yusuke likes him. Yusuke likes _him_. His lips are still tingly and sensitive because Yusuke kissed him. He laughs once, and then can’t stop. “You have a crying kink,” he snickers.

Yusuke’s face flushes light pink, even as he levels Ryuji with another unimpressed look. “You’re such a child.”

“You like me, though,” he says, and pokes Yusuke with his foot.

“I do,” Yusuke says quietly, and shuffles up so that he’s leaning his arms on Ryuji’s thighs, face close enough that Ryuji can feel him breathing softly. “Are you… okay with that?”

Ryuji cracks a silly little smile. “Kiss me again and we’ll see.”

“Ryuji—”

“Yes, you dolt,” he says, and rolls his eyes, holds Yusuke by the side of his face. “I am okay with that, and I would be very happy if you kissed me again right now.”

Yusuke rolls his eyes but leans up and kisses Ryuji anyway. It’s as good as it was the first time, a little easier now that Ryuji isn’t actively crying, and Ryuji gets bold, trails his hands down Yusuke’s neck towards the line of his shirt, around his head to the long hair at the back of his neck. Yusuke hand is a gentle pressure on his thigh that Ryuji thinks he loves.

Yusuke pulls away, presses a kiss to the corner of Ryuji’s mouth. Ryuji sighs, and keeps his hands firm on Yusuke’s skin, even when he presses his mouth to Ryuji’s jaw, and the edge of his neck.

“Yusuke,” Ryuji says tightly, because he didn’t even realize he had feelings for him an hour or so ago, but now every press of Yusuke to his skin is like a separate spark of electricity down his skin. He doesn’t know if he wants him to stop, or if he wants more—his brain feels sufficiently scrambled by nothing in particular.

“Ryuji,” Yusuke sighs back, and Ryuji feels the weight on his legs increase and Yusuke pushes himself higher, kisses high up on his neck. It’s gentle, but just as intense, makes Ryuji’s stomach roll pleasantly.

Ryuji startles when Yusuke’s hand moves higher up on his thigh, thumb pressing into the bone at the inside of his hip. Ryuji starts, jumping away from Yusuke’s mouth, and tries to think about things _other_ than how close Yusuke’s hand is to his very interested dick.

“H-hey,” Ryuji says, and makes a breathy noise when Yusuke’s hand pushes closer. “W-we’re in your school right now, you know.”

“Hm,” Yusuke hums into his neck, and Ryuji fists his hand into the back of Yusuke’s shirt when palms over Ryuji’s cock gently. It sends something flashing hot like lighting through him at the touch, mouth falling open on a shaky exhale. “No one comes around the studio this time of afternoon.”

Ryuji gets dizzy with how fast the implication of that works over his skin, the feeling of Yusuke’s mouth hot on his neck and his fingers tugging gently at his pants. “B-but—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Yusuke asks, without any hesitation. He freezes just as quickly as he’d started, like Ryuji is physically holding him in place.

“I, uh,” Ryuji says, rather intelligently. He tilts his head back to look at Kosei’s white, white ceiling, trying to catalogue whatever is going on in his head right now. “No,” he decides on, after what feels like too long. Yusuke sighs against his skin. “But… lemme… I wanna…”

Yusuke raises an eyebrow at him, so Ryuji leans back, rocking into standing. He pushes Yusuke into the chair in Ryuji’s place, a little pleased with the gentle surprise on Yusuke’s face. His surprise only doubles when Ryuji sinks down to his knees, hands going gently to rest on Yusuke’s thighs. “Is this… okay?”

Yusuke swallows, nodding his head gently. Ryuji feels _massively_ out of his depth right now—he does not know what he’s doing, but he’s seen porn, he knows this can’t feel _bad_ —so he just trails his hands higher up Yusuke’s legs, and fumbles gently with his zipper.

The sound of Yusuke’s pants hissing open is _loud_ in the empty studio, and Ryuji can feel his face growing hot, especially when Yusuke makes a choked noise as he slides his hand across the swell in Yusuke’s underwear.

He looks up and Yusuke is just blinking at him, breathing too slowly like he’s trying to control himself. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, but now he wants to see Yusuke lose a bit of his composure, break down into a perfect mess.

He takes a calming breath and then leans forward to press his mouth to the front of Yusuke’s underwear, wrapping his lips gently around the shape of his cock. Yusuke hisses, and Ryuji glances up at his face, slightly alarmed, but Yusuke is just breathing harder, hands twitching at his side.

“You can put your hands in my hair,” Ryuji says against his underwear, and Yusuke makes an almost sighing noise, his long pale fingers winding tight into Yusuke’s hair. “Do you like that?” Ryuji says with a smirk, because the second Yusuke’s hands are in his hair, he pulls his lip into his mouth. Yusuke nods slowly. Ryuji tugs gently on the waistband of his underwear, sliding it lower and lower. “Do you want to see me cry?”

“Ryuji—” Yusuke starts, quickly cut off in a moan as Ryuji pulls his cock out, stroking over it slowly.

“Oh, come on, man. I can take it.” He looks appraisingly at Yusuke’s cock, startlingly interested for someone who wasn’t sure he liked guys about a dozen minutes ago. He’s long, flushed pink, and Ryuji feels his tongue dart over his lips involuntarily. “I bet you could make me sob on this.”

Yusuke swears quietly, but he doesn’t seem particularly averse to the idea. The more he thinks about it, the more Ryuji likes the idea of Yusuke manhandling him, trying to get him tear up around his dick. It’s embarrassing how hard that makes his cock throb.

“I want to,” Yusuke says quietly, and Ryuji purrs happily.

Gently, he puts the head of Yusuke’s cock in his mouth, and makes a face at the bitter taste of his precum, even if he likes the feeling of Yusuke’s cock heavy on his tongue. Yusuke sighs happily, and Ryuji is about to say something else taunting, when the hands in his hair push him down _hard_.

Ryuji, unsurprising, chokes, and scrambles a bit at Yusuke’s thighs with his fingers, until Yusuke yanks at his hair again and pulls him off of his cock. “Sorry,” Yusuke gasps, and Ryuji coughs gently, swallowing gently at the scratch in his throat. “Sorry, Ryuji—”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ryuji gasps. “Do that again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you—”

“That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, _fuck_ , Yusuke, _do that again._ ”

Yusuke takes a shaky breath, and then Ryuji gets pushed down onto his cock again. He’s a little more ready for it this time, goes down easy until Yusuke’s cock bumps against the back of his throat and Ryuji swallows and chokes, feels hot tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. _Yes,_ he thinks blearily, and starts moving his head eagerly, working his throat messily around Yusuke’s cock. His jaw is sore, and there’s spit starting to slip past his chin, but he also thinks he _likes_ it, groans when Yusuke pushes his head down _hard_ and just holds him there, makes Ryuji pant hard through his nose.

Yusuke pulls on his hair and jerks his hips and Ryuji _moans_ , reaching a hand down between his thighs to palm over his cock.

“Y-you’re _crying_ ,” Yusuke pants, and Ryuji blinks blearily, glancing up at him through his eyelashes. Is he? His cheeks definitely feel wet, but mostly his throat hurts, and mostly he wants to get a hand on his fucking dick, because he doesn’t know how he feels about coming in his pants with Yusuke’s cock down his throat. He makes another sound around Yusuke’s dick that makes him throw his head back, hands winding tighter in his hair. “You’re so beautiful, Ryuji, _god_ , Ryuji.”

Finally, _finally,_ through his fumbling, Ryuji gets a hand wrapped around his aching cock, already embarrassingly close to an orgasm, heat pooling intensely in his stomach, body shaking apart. Yusuke pulls him off of his cock again and Ryuji gasps, head twitching back towards Yusuke’s dick like he _needs_ it. “Gorgeous, Ryuji,” Yusuke breathes, and the praise goes straight to Ryuji’s dick, makes him whine embarrassingly loud. He gets his mouth back around Yusuke’s cock and sucks, lathing his tongue desperately around his head, using an extra hand to stroke, stroke, stroke, and Yusuke whines, his legs twitching wider.

“I want to come on your face,” Yusuke pants. “Please, _Ryuj—ngh!_ Ryuji—”

“Do it,” Ryuji gasps, pulling off of his cock to stroke furtively over his own cock with Yusuke’s until he’s gasping, and near shouting, stripes of come painting hot across Ryuji’s face. He grips Yusuke’s dick and comes into his hand, barely coherent of the loud groan it pulls from him, his breath stuttering out uncomfortably as he tries to breathe.

“Shit,” Ryuji gasps, when he’s largely come down. He realizes Yusuke is rubbing circles into his face, and he peeks open his eyes to his face, full of an enamored sort of fascination. “Are you mixing your come with my tears?”

“Should I not?” Yusuke says, a thumb digging gently into Ryuji’s collarbone. He shouldn’t find it as hot as he does, especially when he _just_ came, but he kind of wishes he could keep going, could put his mouth back on Yusuke.

“It’s fine,” he hums, and lets his eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how the cooling come _feels_ on his face.

“What now?” Yusuke says, half concerned.

Ryuji slides his eyes back open and leans up into his hand some more. “With us?” Yusuke nods. Ryuji laughs. “I think we’re doing this dating thing in a weird order.”

“Is… is that what we’re doing?”

Ryuji blinks, and then smiles. “I think we should try it out.”

Yusuke’s answering grin is like a painting, sunlit and gorgeous.

Ryuji thinks Yusuke is kind of weird. Trying to talk to him is, at times, like trying to chat at a brick wall, or maybe a robot with settings for one topic at a time. His hair is blue, he speaks like he’s reading a textbook, and he’s always around with Ryuji is crying. But now, he supposes, he’s Ryuji’s weird, first and foremost.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've still got a couple *cough* like 15 *cough* fics left for the month, most for persona!
> 
> As always, for updates and rambling, my [ reg ](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos) and [ NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/h0ney_bunns) (though the nsfw one is new and im uhhh not quite sure what I'm doing.( also I will probably be posting some of the later entries for kintober on this account cause I don't have them all written)) Come say hi please! I always wanna talk to more people :]


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